Page 27 of What You Own
“Then definitely.”
“Okay.”
We left my car in front of his building, then took his a few miles to my favorite deli. His, too, since the man behind the counter greeted Ryan by name. He ordered “the usual,” which turned out to be chicken salad with provolone, on a wheat roll with sweet peppers and black olives. I ordered a boring turkey and mustard, with lettuce and tomato. My stomach was still weird from singing earlier, and I wasn’t entirely calm about Ryan, either. Something was still off.
I let him get away with the brooding until we were safely inside his apartment, packing away the sandwiches, sodas, and bags of chips we’d bought. I managed three-quarters of my hoagie, and then had to stop before I made myself sick. Ryan was almost finished with his when I ambushed him. “What did I do?”
He put down the last bite of his hoagie and looked right at me from across the kitchen island. “Why’d you pick that song?”
“Because I knew it, and I wanted to sing something with meaning. I had to follow up to ‘Santa Fe,’ remember?”
“But a song about sleeping with a girl who changes your life? About being confused?”
I blinked hard as my mind went racing. No wonder he was hurt. “Wait, that’s not what I meant, Ryan, not even close. For me, that song is about finding something you didn’t expect to ever have and not wanting to lose it because of your circumstances.”
The wall Ryan had put between us an hour ago dissolved with my words, and he visibly relaxed. His shoulders slumped, and his jaw loosened, allowing him to smile more easily. “Well, good,” he said. “I like that interpretation a sight better.”
“And I like you smiling and at ease better. I’m sorry you got the wrong idea.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Habit, I guess.”
“Then let me make sure you don’t have any other wrong ideas. I don’t regret a single thing we did the other night, Ryan Sanders. Not a thing, and I’d like to do all of them with you again. Repeatedly.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and his expression went fierce, predatory. My insides flipped. Arousal surged in my blood, and blood surged into my cock. He’d held back before and let me lead. He hadn’t wanted to spook me, and in hindsight I’d appreciated the self-control. I didn’t want him to censor himself, though, not with me. Not ever with me.
“Sucking your cock was the fucking hottest thing I’ve done in my life,” I said.
His reaction didn’t disappoint—flaring nostrils, tense shoulders, fingers gripping the countertop like he’d fly over it if he let go. Ryan kept his emotions bottled up around me. He’d done it for years, probably because he’d loved me longer than I’d loved him—romantically, at least. He wasn’t getting away with it anymore.
“You done eating?” I asked.
“Done eating lunch.”
The idea that he’d be eating something else made my knees tremble with want. I knew what he meant. I might have stayed firmly in the closet, but I knew how to use the Internet.
You can’t go back from this.
I pivoted on my heel and stripped off my T-shirt as I walked across the living room. I had no idea which bedroom door belonged to Ryan, but he lived with a girl so I aimed for the door farthest from the bathroom. Ryan growled something, and then I was being spun around and crowded into the wall between the two doors. He braced his hands on either side of my shoulders and leaned close enough that I felt his body heat. Hot breath feathered over my cheek an instant before he captured my mouth in a burning kiss.
I may not remember our first kiss, but I’ve remembered every kiss since, and they got better, more intense, each time. His whole body got into the act, pressing me into the wall while his tongue swept into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, threaded my hands in his hair. He worked his right thigh between my legs, pressed against my erection, and I whimpered. Felt so good.
He lifted my left leg up around his hip, then raised me up off the damned floor, pinning me to the wall with his hands under my thighs, and his hips grinding into my groin. Cock to cock, mouths sealed, and it was fantastic. I locked my ankles above his ass, tightened my fingers in his hair. He kissed me harder, thrust his hips more brutally.
God, I could come like this, from dry humping against the damned wall.
Shocking me with his strength, Ryan stepped back from the wall and carried me into his room. He deposited us both onto his messy bed, in the same position, and he ground his jeans-clad cock into mine, like he was fucking me with his clothes on. I bit on his earlobe, because he’d liked that the first time, and he made that fantastic noise—something softer than a growl, but more than a simple moan. A needy noise I loved hearing.
“Need you,” Ryan said, his voice a harsh whisper.
“You’ve got me, always.”
“Then get your fucking clothes off, hoss.”
Shit, I felt that order in my balls. He sat up and began to strip. I got lost in watching him expose long swaths of smooth, tanned skin stretched over hard, developed abs and pecs. His arms were amazing, strong without being overly muscled. He got naked while I watched, thrilled that he was mine, like he always should have been.
Like he always had been, even while we were apart.
He wasn’t happy standing by the bed in his full, nude glory, while I still had my jeans and sneakers on. And I didn’t give a damn.
